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More from Fidelia:
I could fall in love with a politician. I did. It happened. As forbidden and secret as it may be, it is the secret that I keep tucked in by my political hope at night. But they don’t make a t-shirt that celebrates the love of retired clergy. If they did, I wouldn’t wear it because this man is my nightmare.
I don’t really remember how it started. I don’t think I was sent to bed without dinner. I can’t imagine that this sort of nightmare emerged from the recesses of my brain. Perhaps this is the kind of mischief that arrives in your third month in ministry. This may be the testing that one must endure in the wilderness of the third month of a call. Or this could just be the unfulfilled grief of a miserable old man.
The mischief may have started sooner. I only remember that one night when Jack Night lurked into my office. It was late. I had spent the day drinking tea from so many different sets of old china that I was jittery. Coherent thoughts were not possible – no matter how warmed I was by the energy that the greatest generation instilled in me. So it may have been a nightmare. But there he was. Read more
No? What’s that? You experienced stress, anxiety, or confusion while looking for a position as an ordained minister? Blasphemy, blasphemy! Well, maybe so, but, given a choice, I’d rather be a blasphemer than a prevaricator.
When I was looking for my first ordained call, I thought I would have no problem. I am an attractive candidate… on paper, that is. I had degrees with Latin honors from two prestigious universities, internships in fairly diverse places, and some pretty good sample sermons. I was the ideal candidate in my own mind if nowhere else. What congregation wouldn’t want to issue a call to me?
I can’t believe I was so naive.
My resume may have gotten me interviews, but that’s about it. Once I got in the door, I had to interview well. I did fine on my one-on-ones with the head pastor, the persons who would have been my most
direct supervisor. The committee interviews were an entirely different story. I was interviewed—and rejected—by several parish committees before I had even written my final papers for divinity school. By the time graduation had rolled around, I had earned a few more rejections. I was freaking out, embarrassed, and unemployed to boot. I also felt like I was supposed to be all zen about everything, which I was not.
Looking back on it, part of the problem was that everyone, including me, thought that I would interview well. What I came to realize is that interviewing is itself an acquired skill. I share with you some of my own pitfalls, in hopes that you might seek out your own. Read more
There are certain life markers and statistics that make me feel old: my ninth wedding anniversary is coming up, as is my tenth college reunion; I have high school friends with four kids. But the most remarkable one of these facts is this: I’m only 30, but I’ve already been a pastor in two denominations.
I was initially ordained in the Christian Reformed Church of North America in 2003. The CRCNA was my mother church: I was raised, reared, and nurtured in it. My father and grandfather are CRC ministers. For all its flaws, I love it as the family it was to me. In 2003, the denomination had been ordaining women as pastors for eight years under a local-option compromise after 30 years of debate. By my count, I was woman-minister number 23.
But there were few positions for women in ministry within congregations. Most women, like me, were working in para-church positions (I was the pastor and religion teacher for an urban high school). After one year of teaching, I knew that my calling involved congregational ministry. I had interned extensively in congregations, and I missed it desperately. But the options for congregational ministry were so limited that I knew I would have to take extreme measures to fulfill my sense of God’s call.
Two years later, after a complicated journey through regional committees, a second round of ordination exams, and church-polity rabbit holes, I stood before the Presbytery of Chicago and was accepted as a Minister of Word and Sacrament in the PC(USA). I felt like a kid in a candy store when I looked through their on-line database of positions. I didn’t have to read the between the lines of position descriptions, looking for the coded language that meant, “under no circumstances will we even consider, or pretend to consider, hiring a woman.” Sure, there was lingering prejudice and there were glass ceilings, but I was in a denomination that was celebrating the 50th anniversary of women’s ordination. This was completely liberating compared to the place I came from. Read more
